


Together We're Always Alone

by anocven



Category: Interview With the Vampire (1994), Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Apologies, Arguing, Bickering, Blood, Blood Drinking, Domestic, Hair Brushing, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, M/M, Makeup Sex, Making Out, Parental Louis, Possessive Behavior, Religion, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Scratching, and she will do it again BOP BOP, claudia has killed a few piano teachers, its not all porn i promise, lestat yelling about the pope, louis still having a crisis about being dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 06:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30135228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anocven/pseuds/anocven
Summary: After Lestat acts out, Louis gets the apology and reassurance he deserves.
Relationships: Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Together We're Always Alone

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting in my notes for a few months and. it is what it is time to contribute to my favorite fandom once and for all

Louis's hand came sharply against the door's edge before it slammed, preventing an echo that would awaken the golden child in slumber against his shoulder. "Lestat. I refuse to argue with you over such trivial topics. You knew our schedule for the evening."

"I- You sit on a throne of lies," Lestat spat with bared teeth, wringing a bloodied cravat between his hands. His meal had barely struggled. "Lies and foolish actions filled with deceit!" Furious eyes bored into his companion's side profile as he threw off his velvet overcoat. 

"Will you-" Turning in a warning motion, Louis caught the drop of guilt encased in Lestat's expression, a slender finger raised to his lips. "I apologize we failed to attend the theatre tonight, but I believe sealing a business deal is far more important on behalf of supporting our lavish lifestyle." Worn eyes worked up and down the stubborn man in distaste, adjusting Claudia on his hip as a hand smoothed her curls down. "Or should I say yours." 

"Tonight was the last night! You've failed to recognize this is in fact our lifestyle. I lavish you both with gifts, do I not?"

"Bold of you to assume I'd have a throne to sit upon if I didn't watch over the finances. I'm not a woman to hang upon your arm for pleasure without folly. We'll attend another night... Be considerate that I fed with you." As much as he was morally in denial, tonight had been rather exhausting, having little energy to chase after street rats. Lestat had tempted him to the larger breed as if they were playing Eden, the proof clutched in Lestat's fist. 

Ascending toward Claudia's room, ignorant to Lestat's scoffing, his eyes settled upon a wreath of dried flowers hanging against his daughter's bedroom door. They had been picked and hung two years prior, when Claudia found joy in the gardens, collecting bouts of lilacs and Queen Anne’s lace. Lestat attempted to convince her fresh floral arrangements were far more appealing, but she refused. It would remain until she deemed it childish- He only hoped it wouldn't be soon. She'd come to her senses sooner than later with the come and go of each season. Toys would lose appeal in favor of modern pieces a proper lady would appreciate. Another issue for another night. Once Claudia settled into her own coffin with a doll embraced in her comfort, Louis couldn't help but stare. His mortal mind fell into a panic- She was a dead child after all. He almost felt as if he should raise a mirror beneath her nose to check for life. Yet, his immortal values granted reassurance. She was fine. He was tired, far too tired. He took a step back in a self-embrace, eyes shutting to the rhythmic hum of approaching dawn. His first moment of peace since dusk. 

Mortality faded away from him long ago- Before Claudia had been born to her mother. Unwilling to hide, each passing day revealed cravings he no longer controlled. In the mirage of thought, Louis led himself into the bathroom to enjoy the trance of hot water in the silence of the washroom. He could pretend to be human with how it heated his body, if only until the bath ran cold. Coiled in on himself, he inhaled deeply the scent of lavender oils and soaps sinking into his hair, dried buds nestling themselves between his soaked locks. It shone like an oil spill by candlelight, even more so when the vampire dunked his head beneath the water to count the seconds before breaking the surface with a deep breath. He didn't truly need to, but the dramatics of it heightened a mortal experience. Eventually, the bath grew boring and he resigned to crunching his hair with a towel after drying his body without a single glance to the mirror. Opening the doors from the washroom revealing a four-poster bed, Louis snuck his way out and towards the vanity as not to wake the man currently sprawled out across the sheets. Louis pursed his lips at the sight when another snore cut through. Heavy velvet curtains sealed away incoming sunlight as he shed his clothing, adorning himself in an emerald robe and perching on the opposite end of the bed. He could care less when Lestat would decide to hike up his trousers and act like a grown man. If he were lucky Lestat wouldn't so he'd have the dawn to finish his book. Slender fingers curled around a whale-bone brush, and before it grazed his scalp his wrist stopped midair, wild cobalt eyes locked on him.

Speak of the devil.

Lestat crawled upon hand and knee, rising up to sit behind the vampire. "You're cruel." Lestat's first complaint of the night tugged a small frown to the brunette’s lips before his wrist was released, but the brush was stolen from his grasp before slowly moving against his head. Louis refused to submit to his preening at the sensation of each bristle running against his scalp, chin rising.

"So are you."

"Yes, well, I'm not the one with a garden on my head." Lestat frowned at the small collection of lavender buds in his palm, rubbing one between his fingers to inhale the scent. He let it fall to the floor before continuing the small ritual of brushing out every kink and false curl, basking in the silence before it began to irk him as it came with an increased speed of brushing and light tapping against the handle.

Louis reached back quick to hold Lestat's hand steady. "If you've grown bored, I'll continue myself." Never allowing Lestat to answer, he was true to his word before pulling the collection of hair over his shoulder. 

Verbal apologies were rare, if nonexistent for the time being. To run his fingers against Louis's scalp and plant a chaste kiss to the top of his head was more than expected but hardly appreciated as he was swatted away. He was ignorant of any threat as he laid back, fingertips stroking up his arm. "I'd like for you to indulge me in the truth," Lestat took the silence as a welcoming gesture to continue. "Deeming that we're close friends."

The nail of his index finger dragged agonizingly slow against his flesh.

"If that's what you'd consider us." If such 'friends' spent countless nights entangled in one another's arms alongside raising a daughter. Lestat enjoyed playing house, an idealism that would never be truth- But he would be caught in a lie if he ever said he didn't imagine himself as a devoted spouse. "What truth are we indulging in tonight?" 

Always the dramatic, Lestat brought his hands up to his face, scrubbing at his eyes with a jagged motion. A ragged rush of breath pushed past his lips as Louis's fingers dragged through the countless flaxen curls spread across the sheets. "... You're not a wife, let alone anything close. If you'd like to behave as one there would be no objection, but in the parlor, I meant it in such a way that... I don't wish to have you around purely for entertainment and childrearing."

"And." Louis carefully continued stroking, occasionally scratching his scalp to watch him shudder while soaking up each stumbled word. 

"...I've begged to know if someone would care for me deeper than God for his graced Earth. There is no feeling worse to man than being aware of the world closing in on him like a rapture. I see you as one who admires unorthodox ideas in uncertainty- I was born a selfish sinner and there is nothing more in this world that can satisfy me more." 

Louis's gaze unfocused, urged to throw each sheet from his body and escape into the depths of his coffin- To seal himself away from the world until rot and decay settles against his body. Countless times had Lestat proclaimed his affections with baskets of floral arrangements, tender reassurances upon the street and momentary admittances during heated passion- But such statements sunk heavily into his chest. "Why you've decided to say such things tonight, I will never understand..." He admitted, pushing Lestat away as he began to escape to the edge of the mattress, waist caught before he could stand. "Leave me be," He demanded in a wavering tone, fingers curling. A confession of affections with this depth was the last thing he had expected- It felt as if the walls were closing in inch by inch, a suffocation to sudden commitment. Rarely did they rest in the same bed unless they had little energy to untangle from the sheets. Lestat's hand only ever met his own within the serenity of the theatre box. "Stop spitting on me. You care when I'm pleasuring you or that sick fantasy for a home!" 

Lestat rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes traveling from Louis's trembling mouth to windows peak, fingertips raised to trace along his profile, pushing loose strands behind his ear before stroking his cheek with the back of his knuckle. "I don't appreciate mockery in a moment of vulnerability, Louis." He cooed. "Nonetheless," A ridged smile contrasted the devastated figure mere inches away. "I'd never let you wander away from me! Such a ridiculous presumption. Come, stay in bed with me tonight."

"I'd much rather sleep in the morgue." Louis spat, elbow rushing to meet the blonde's arm, enough to shift away to recollect himself as Lestat's bitter laugh grew. 

"I called for a sign! For purpose, and like it or not you came into my sight and I knew."

"Yes. Of course. You knew."

"I knew. What more would you like to hear?"

"Please. Let me rest. I've devoted most, if not all my time keeping you at bay. I have little energy left to listen to your delusions. Any further confessions should be taken to the priest."

"Oh, you're testing my patience." Lestat gawked in amusement. "A priest! You and your damned religious solutions. Perhaps you'd like to send a letter to the Pope? Beg him to give you advice on living and laying with another man. Go on, I'd pay to watch him feast his eyes on such papers." A hand came to grab a fistful of Louis's hair, yanking it back once, fangs bared in annoyance at Louis's nails coming toward his face. "If you don't wish to be grabbed," Another tug. "Cut your hair!"

"To have it grow back the moment it falls? You did this to me. You did this!"

"Who else? I gave you eternal life and yet you continue to wish for death! Forgive me!"

Slender hands wrapped along his throat, a mimic to The Sacrifice of Isaac. It had little to do with pressure, more or less keeping an arms-length distance away. "Why should I do such a foolish thing? Forgiveness is for those in wanting. Never did I want to know you. I never asked for your affections nor did I ask for life and you knew it. You knew what I wanted and took it away from me as you continue to do with each passing day." 

"You carry around the presumption that all is death. You drain me."

"Then find someone who will make you want to live."

"You are the one who makes me want to live. Maybe you weren't the one for me, but deep down I craved for it. I continue to do so- My lone unsatiable hunger." The hand upon his throat raised, leaving Lestat to rest upon his back to gaze back upon Louis as if he weren’t in such a weak position. Although he didn't usually mind such a point of view, to admire the clarity of each vein pulsing in heat. "At times I fear when I wake, you'll be far from my grasp." Although each and every fresh tear were wiped away with the pad of his thumb, staining remained, marking Louis in permanent misery until he'd be able to take a damp cloth to his face. "Yet even at our worst, you return."

"If we're indulging in the truth, I have little to gain from your presence."

"You're admitting that you use me."

"You've been using me the moment we met."

Lestat’s teeth grit tight, clearly caught in a corner. An immediate reaction would've led to choking Louis down, leading to a mortal death which they were far from initiating. He had grown exhausted from the bickering, rising from the winding sheets to retrieve a token of his gratitude from the small washing basin set upon the vanity. He was gentle to press the handkerchief along his supple flesh, coloring the silk a subtle pink. Louis's breath brushed against the surface of his hand, nostrils occasionally flaring from each touch. The blonde was unpredictable even on his own terms. What would start as a flame of violent passion died down into healthy coals of tender apology. All escaped his grasp, especially his own thoughts. "If I was ever to be poisoned, I would take great pride in knowing it was you. I’d want nothing more than to drink from your hands, aware of death eternal soon to come."

"Never will you know what I’m capable of."

"Oh," Warmed hands parted the silken robe, caressing the velvet hemline before fingers spread across a familiar pale ribcage. "I haven't grown bored in the slightest." Lestat cooed as his head followed close behind his hands, eyeing vast and freshly washed flesh. Warmly spiced soaps and crushed florals invaded his senses, mere seconds before his lips met the space beneath his chest. Both men moved in unison to lay back. Louis arched his back, chest raised toward the cooling mouth pressing to each bone encasing his lungs, encouraging every motion as his own fingertips drew slow circles into the blondes' scalp. 

Lestat glanced only for a second, and in such a moment he exposed himself to a heavenly sight. Such a somber smile his companion had- The kind that could make a grown man weep. It was one of an angel that dared to become the hunter. He could do nothing more than admire pristine, delicate fangs pressed to the very surface of his bottom lip. Almost a flaw. He considered it perfection.

Drowsiness didn't come with the anticipation of heated passion- He had been tired the moment he came through the door, and these physical motions only ever relaxed his figure. When hands traveled south, Louis blocked his path to prevent dwindling any further. Lestat's gaze flickered up, breath caught. Louis pulled the silken fabric together instead of the usual persuasion to end anything before it ever began. He cupped his face in his hands, watching eyelids droop shut before leaning closer. He didn’t kiss as a false nobleman attempting to preserve everything around him, but he kissed as he did a mortal man who could lose everything in a second, with blonde hair kinked and untamed instead of oiled and brushed.

Louis's throat tightened, suddenly caught in a battle of allowing Lestat to have him this easily. It's not like it'd matter now, a familiar pair of lips pressing against his. They were cold, but he didn't mind, eyes fluttering shut while relaxing into the embrace. There he laid, kissed dizzy as Lestat turned a small crystal bottle toward his palm, collecting a puddle of oil in the cusp of his hand. He wearily gazed toward him, gently parting the curtain of green to expose himself to the cooling bedroom air, welcoming Lestat's frozen touch until their private flesh shone by the candlelight. Legs elegantly spread across the sheets like a full course meal, pale hands kneaded hard and slow up each thigh as his brain fogged with pleasure. 

"Do you hate me?" He questions softly as he settled over the brunette, tenderly clutching the underside of his knee. 

"No," Louis buried half of his face into his pillow, the visible corner of his mouth tugging downward. His hand twisted up for attention and Lestat immediately took it in his own, fingers slotting together. "Not always. I give myself the small pleasure of hope."

He focused on the dark outlining of the wallpaper, absentmindedly dragging the pad of his thumb along his tip before the world quickly rotated around him, suddenly laid out on his stomach. "Merde!" His mouth fell open as Lestat rocked into him with a single rough thrust, leaving him scrambling for something to grip. Drool trickled from his bottom lip, glassy eyes squeezing shut with a gasp when the tip of Lestat's cock grazed his core. "Ah, ah-" Louis arched his back, twisting the sheets around his hands with a wavering sigh as he rolled his hips toward heaven. Each sorrowful sigh and sinful moan slipping past his lips seem miles away from his body, and the only thing he can bring himself to focus on is the way his grip ruined their sheets. 

"Nobody will ever love you the way I do. Remember that, Louis." Warm breath blew against the shell of his ear as Lestat rocked against Louis carefully, each deliciously blunt scrape against his walls causing the man's eyes to flutter shut. He accidentally nicked the base of his wrist in their heated rut, a smear of crimson brushed across his face. Lestat tenderly wiped it away and licked it off the pad of his thumb. "Remember that." 

Louis's thighs trembled as he winced at the friction from each desperate hump, cock strained between his stomach and the bed. Each new thrust brutally jerked the air from his lungs, helplessly moaning at the rhythmic pattern as his knees drew in, backside raising up further towards Lestat's bruising grip. Surely the bedframe would snap if they continued in such a fashion. It wouldn't be the first time Lestat lost awareness to his own strength and destroyed what precious furniture they owned. The blonde paused, hunched over his body with a guttural groan as a familiar warmth blossomed inside of him, releasing a dangerously tense breath as his nails dug into his hipbone. The member once pulsing with heat and life cooled when Lestat removed himself, sitting back on his calves with a serene hum. Louis's breath hitches as his release hits a blunt point at the core of his spine, shivering as he comes undone moments later, fingers curling into fists tight enough to draw blood from his palms. 

Body curling in, Louis tucked his head beneath Lestat's chin, the ease of melting into a semi-warm embrace confessing more than spoken word could manage. For now things would be left unsaid as he couldn't manage another argument in the bliss of an orgasm, reflexes nonexistent when Lestat dragged his arm up to suckle at the minor wound he had inflicted upon himself. This was far from a proper apology, but... It would do. 

\---

Small hands pressed delicately against his forearm. Then it became a shove. Louis stirred once, twice, and finally on the third attempt heavy eyelids rose. "What is it..." A hoarse mumble arose from his throat as a hand dragged against his face to brush away any stray hairs. A delayed glance towards the clock granted it three in the afternoon, and a heavy sensation around his waist became clarification that Lestat was violently spooning him. 

Claudia stood at the edge of the bed, hair astray in each direction and her softest doll being clung to tightly. Louis could've laughed- Her expression was as if someone had painted Lestat on accident, from the pouted mouth to dark furrowed brows. It was as if he was watching the man prepare to throw a fit over a composition. She began mumbling into the doll’s dark hair, suddenly avoiding eye contact. It took Louis a considerable amount of time to hear the word 'nightmare' somewhere before exhaling slowly and extending his hand towards the door. 

"I'll be right there, mon chérie." He whispered, gently shooing her out, staying perfectly still until the door shut. The consideration put into slipping away without waking Lestat was immense, and he dared to stand by the bed in relief as Lestat curled into the closest pillow to make up for his absence. It's not like he'd realize he's gone from the lack of body heat. 

"You know, if you ever have another nightmare, I'm sure papa can read to you as well." Resting his chin into his palm, he began to thumb through each delicate page, perched at the edge of Claudia's bed. Her floral coffin rested on the opposite end of the room where she had originally risen from, but whenever she fell asleep for the second time she liked to be in her bed. Perhaps it was a mortal instinct returning to her. Each illustration was as beautiful as the next, and he could still recall the day he bought it for his daughter. It's not as if he minded, but he knew Lestat would be disappointed that he's never chosen, as silly as it may be. The pad of his index finger pressed against a softened corner, a story of a woman finding herself saving her father from a beast by sacrificing her freedom. Shakespeare was the usual to send Claudia to sleep, but on a personal note he was growing sick and tired of it- Claudia was still a child, and a folk story never hurt. He had barely gotten to the part where the woman in question was pursued by the beast when a small voice interrupted.

"I'd like to be like her."

Louis closed the book slowly after inserting a thin ribbon to keep his place and setting it atop the nightstand. "What do you mean? Don't tell me you'd like to be chased by a savage monster."

"No." There was a moment of contemplation as she tapped her fingers together. Louis smiled. There goes that pout again. "... Maybe. I'm not a fan of his manners. Chasing women around and forcing them to stay in your home doesn't seem quite nice."

Somehow, he felt like he's heard this story before. 

"Yes, well he does seem brash, doesn't he? I think it's best you stay away from that sort of individual." He leaned forward, pinching her nose lightly to earn a small laugh. Shutting the book and setting it back upon the nightstand, Louis fixed the shoulder of his robe and pulled the edge of the blush blanket up to Claudia's chin. He was never good with these conversations, it felt like something he would've spoken about with his sister. If she were around now, he knew without a doubt she'd be absolutely lost to the role of a doting aunt as if her life depended on it, but there was no use in focusing on a lost momentum if he had no power to change it. "Besides, you're strong on your own. Never depend on anyone but yourself, but if and when the day comes, I suggest you choose your partner wisely."

"Like you did with papa?"

He almost laughed, sharply biting the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. "I didn't have much of a choice. I suppose I... He simply swept me off my feet." It was the most he could say without blatantly lying. "However, papa depends on me when he shouldn't be. He's a mess, but don't go around repeating that." Louis whispered against his palm as if it were some terrible secret, earning a serious nod in return.

He was afraid, truthfully. As much as Claudia could beg and pray, she'd be a child until the world tears in two- And it drove the stake of guilt deeper and deeper into his chest. He wasn't the one to blame- Lestat had made the impulsive choice to give them a daughter. It eased the weight upon his shoulders in the moment to wave away the bustling storm in his mind to lean forward to press a chaste kiss to her forehead. "Nevermind all of that, it's very late and Monsieur Lavoie will be here within a few hours. Get to sleep now."

Claudia audibly sighed, a disembodied gaze boring into the tightly tied curtains. Her father stopped at the doorway clutching the knob, already sensing the dislike to the pianist.

"Go on, what is it?"

"Does it have to be Lavoie?"

"And why not? You're very lucky we found you another instructor, it's difficult enough as it is to request private night classes let alone find one in the area considering there's been a recent shortage." He refused to think about the way he and Lestat had to toss the bodies into the swamp, listening to his partner ramble on about what a waste it was and how they'd get the stain out of the carpet. "Alright?"

"Yes." Claudia peeped, rolling her eyes as she slid further beneath the covers. "Goodnight."

"Thank you. Goodnight." The early morning had begun to peek behind the curtains, as he shut Claudia’s door and retreated back down the hall into his own dwelling where Lestat had sat up against the headboard, hands folded over his lap and displeased expression prominent. Louis all but collapsed beside the blonde, sighing into the cooling cushion.

"Silence brings you only yourself Lestat." 

"What ever happened to sleeping in our coffin?" Lestat blurted, catching the other off guard as he returned to his place tucked up against him. "Last I recall, a proper vampire stows himself away into a wooden case until dusk. yet here we are, exposed like mortal men." 

"If it bothers you so, go back to your coffin. I'll enjoy the bed much more without you in the way. I've missed it quite so."

"How preposterous. You crave far too much from a life you'll never return to."

"I do." Louis chuckled quietly to himself. "I miss the taste of communion wine. Perhaps I miss communion at dawn, subjecting my body to a certain God who would take interest. Perhaps it was the divine intervention of affections. 

"You crave your gods blood in your mouth when you can barely take it from his creations."

"Never did I say God is a man."

"With your preferences he might as well be."

Refusing to meet his eyes, Louis kneaded his fingers into the sheets, rubbing down the tight stitching. It wasn't important, considering he fed from the unimportant. Yet he craved the numbers. Lestat didn't bask long in the silence, hands dropping to his lap with a jagged breath. 

"Very well, I miss... Clean tears. Each time I weep from pride after Claudia's performance I find myself spot-cleaning my cravat for hours. It's such a nuisance."

"You miss crying without evidence."

"I don't."

"You do."

Lestat's shoulders become rigid, knuckles white in a grip over his chest. "Who are you to lecture me about my emotions?" He bit, "I've dealt with your unspeakable sobbing for years."

"Yes, and you've been decent through the process. What would I ever do without you barging into the room to inform me of my woes?"

The silence following gave Louis the impression that he had won, lazily rolling to his side and resting a hand against Lestat’s, barely lacing their fingers as his body went slack. The silence only lasted so long for a second time. He was stupid to think he'd shut down so easily. 

"What were you reading?"

"La Belle et la Bête," Sheets pulled up to his shoulders, Louis sunk deeper into the pillow. "I think she's grown tired of Shakespeare. As have I."

"Then I'll introduce her to Pierre de Ronsard."

"Let her be a child, Lestat. There's nothing wrong with reading her a fairytale."

"When I was her age there were no such excuses. She should be educated in only the finest of poets-" A hand pressed against the side of Lestat's face, forcing his jaw shut before falling back against his chest. He watched as Louis curled into his side, lips parted as his fingers uncurled from their grip upon the sheets. Lestat reached in, brushing his fingers along the line of his cheekbone before pressing the faintest kiss in place. Then another- And two more for the sake of it as Louis's mouth quirked into a faint smile.

"That made you sound like an old man." Louis murmured as his head raised slightly to meet the blonde, their lips meeting continuously until satisfied. Fingertips traced along any prominent features in admiration, savoring the taste of Lestat on his tongue. He always felt that his mouth was large for his face. Just as his narrow nose had been stippled with faded evidence of sunlight. Imperfections. It drew his mind to the fact that Lestat had once been mortal. He once bled from a wound that didn't heal for weeks and ate soup at the table, just as he once had. "What are you? Seventy? Eighty?"

The guessing drew out a low chuckle, capturing Louis's hand in his own to kiss at his palm, teasing to bite at his wrist before resting his lips against his pulse. "I'm only thirty-seven. Thirty-eight in November."

To Louis, it was a sudden accomplishment. Rare was it to hear Lestat share a single fact about himself while begging to tear into Louis for an autobiography. "November...?" He pressed, anxious to dig his nails into any exposed flesh Lestat was willing to bare as the blonde continued to drag his teeth across his unfed body.

"Seventh."

"Mm." Louis hummed with a soft lip purse, blinking away any evidence of pride. "That's in a month..." A sharp inhale cut through the air when Lestat bit down, sinking into the comfort of consummation. "... You've let all these years pass without celebrating your own birthday." He watched Lestat suckle in ignorance, sighing lovingly as he licked a stripe across the veins.

"What's the point?" Lestat mumbled, wiping at his mouth. "I don't require gifts upon a specific day. A night at the theatre is all I ask." He beamed a wicked grin as if Louis would reward him for the flirt. Obviously, he had no plans. If Louis wasn't willing to attend there would be no point. Shows grew boring quickly alone. If anything, he often watched Louis from the corner of his eye for any reaction at a line. If anything drew out a laugh, he'd memorize it for gloomy days. Slumping back in a deep exhale, Lestat stretched out with a yawn as Louis rolled his eyes and drew in closer to the dwindling lullaby of crickets wandering in from the partially shut windows. He craved to lay in the garden, inhaling the thick scent of earth. Blades of grass combed through his locks, brushing his cheek on the occasion when he'd turn his head to rest against the dirt with limbs splayed outwards. Normally one wouldn't expect a vampire to lay out in the grass with his face toward the stars. Vampires belonged in their coffins or in a timeless mansion filled with antiques and soft piano notes. He wanted to stare past the parted clouds that expose a vast image of space, to trace out the few constellations he knew from memory whilst laid out on their property like a ragdoll. Lestat would complain to him that he never imagined he'd be staring down from the railing to see his beloved in the grass like a dog, the white of his blouse and flesh reflected against the only light they'd ever experience in this life, staring out into oblivion. For now they rested as two corpses shoulder to shoulder, basking in pleasantries granted only between intimates and the sensation of crushed intention between calloused fingertips. 

It would have to do.


End file.
